


Fix Up

by the-eagle-of-masyaf (Dunkelherz)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, D/s, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Hooker AU, M/M, Romance, explicit - Freeform, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunkelherz/pseuds/the-eagle-of-masyaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He usually got to see the neighborhoods with the small streets and tiny white houses on top of hills, a SUV standing in front of the garage with children’s toys lying around and an xbox standing underneath the TV. He usually met loving family fathers with one or two children, a wife and a good job. But not this. He’d never got to be downtown where the people in their apartments all went to university where they were put in boxes and came out all the same only to live in apartment buildings looking like boxes all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet Up

This wasn’t the usual neighborhood Altair got to work at as he usually went into the suburbs but he thought there was an exception for everything. He didn’t really mind though but it made him feel uncomfortable going into a neighborhood where most of the apartment complexes had a porter and with no names on the mailboxes but numbers, fast elevators riding up and down and clean polished glass surfaces from bottom to top overlooking the whole city. He pulled out his cellphone and checked his messages for the address once more. It wasn’t too far anymore and when Altair checked the number on the buildings. There was 82, 84, 86… Oh shit.

 

Altair stopped and his eyes roamed over the residence rising high in the sky in front of him. Now this _was_ fancy. He usually got to see the neighborhoods with the small streets and tiny white houses on top of hills, a SUV standing in front of the garage with children’s toys lying around and an xbox standing underneath the TV. He usually met loving family fathers with one or two children, a wife and a good job. But not this. He’d never got to be downtown where the people in their apartments all went to university where they were put in boxes and came out all the same only to live in apartment buildings looking like boxes all the same.

 

There was a man in a uniform standing in front of a glass door with golden handles, holding it open for Altair to go through and nodding his head once. It was an act, nothing more and Altair thought he could see it in the man’s eyes that he knew all along what Altair really was. He’d put on his good shoes, a nice shirt and his best pants of pair. Yet, he still only owned a leather jacket which was worn out and old but still good to wear and Altair loved this jacket more than anything but he thought it gave him away. People usually looked right through him, he was one among a million of ants going after their business day in and out but not here. People could see he didn’t belong and that was exactly the reason why he was uncomfortable going inside now, greeting the porter with just a look and walked up right to the reception.

 

The woman there looked up at him, wearing one of those fake smiles on her big red lips that didn’t reach her eyes. “Good evening sir”, she said and it made goosebumps crawl up Altair’s spine – it wasn’t in a good way. “Can I help you?”

 

“I have an invitation for apartment thirteen b”, he said and it sounded more of a question than a statement. It was funny how he could be nervous about this. He knew most clichés about his work dealt with this, most people expected tonight for him to be a regular night but that wasn’t true.  Regular nights were suburban’s dads in little white houses.

 

He watched the hostess typing, long red fingernails flying across the keyboard and she put a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she read something on her screen. “Name please”, she said and didn’t even look up.

 

“It’s Altair”, he said and started to get annoyed by this. He was already late. So far it was only five minutes but Altair was tolerant for a lot of things but being late wasn’t one. Even if it were just five minutes, it was enough to drive him out of his skin.

The lady looked back up and flashed him a smile. “I’ve called you an elevator sir”, she said. “Have a good night.”

 

“Thank you”, he nodded and could already hear the characteristic little ‘ping’ which told him the cabin was already there, ready to bring him up to his appointment.

 

There was music playing inside with a red carpet and mirrors decorating the walls and ceiling but there was now number display showing him at which floor he was. Altair glanced at his own reflection in the mirror. His hair was too short as it could give him any trouble and he rubbed his chin, the shadow of a three day old beard showing there. He run his thumb across the scar on his lip, then tried a tiny smile. This was about it.

 

 

The doors opened and for a moment, Altair expected to stand right in the middle of an apartment but he wasn’t disappointed when he stepped outside into a regular hall. There were signs with numbers showing him which direction to take. Thirteen B was at the end of the corridor and when he rose his hand to knock at the door, he took one last deep breath.

 

“You’re late.”

 

He’d just parted his lips with half a smile on them to breath an ‘I’m here’ but his client was not in a good mood – which was odd, because usually his clients were either nervous or tipsy but always happy to see him. Altair stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air on dry land and needed a few seconds to get himself back together before he shook his head and entered the apartment since his client didn’t make an attempt to wait or invite him inside. There was music playing in the distance, some slow jazz with a wonderful piano solo. It smelled of cinnamon and burnt candles, the light was dimmed – it reminded Altair more of a date than an appointment.

 

He took a quick glance around the place.

It was _huge_.

There were four stairs leading down to the living room area with a fireplace to one side and an absolutely stunning look across the city. The windows went from the floor all the way up to the ceiling and it made Altair realize how big the world and how small he really was. It was breathtaking and he fell in love with the view instantly. There was a kitchen, big and absolutely clean with no crumble, no little smudge, nothing.

 

So, maybe a doctor.

Altair took one stair after the other, following his client to the seating area in the middle of the living room.

 

Probably a surgeon.

 

He took the big sofa opposite of his client, sitting with his back to the big windows and pulled his leather jacket off.

 

Plastic surgeon for sure.

 

There was whiskey standing on a table but only one glass and there was already some of the amber liquid inside.  Altair wasn’t one to drink but on a job, he liked to have one or two just to get into a more comfortable mood. Seemed like today he simply had to wait to get offered one. Altair looked at his client who was looking at him, one leg crossed over the other and cheek leaning in his hand one eyebrow drawn upwards. “Is there an explanation?”

 

Altair cleared his throat and leaned a bit forward. “For what?”

 

“You’re late”, his client simply said again.

 

It made Altair chuckle, “Five minutes.”

 

He sighed and reached for the glass of whiskey to take a small sip from it. “Your profile says you’re reliable.”

 

“I am – it was only five minutes.” Altair made a waving motion with his hand. “I’ve never been to this part of the city, I needed a bit to find your building.” Altair flashed him a charming smile, “But I don’t think you’ve made an appointment to argue with me about five minutes.”

 

“No”, his client shook his head, “but we’re not arguing here.” He craned his neck. “If we decide to work together, I expect you to do better next time.”

 

“If”, Altair said with a nod and smiled once more. “I take it then you’re looking for somebody regular?”

 

“That is correct.”

“I take one twenty the hour-“, Altair begun but was cut through his words.

 

“I’m not doing hours. If we agree on working with each other I need you to know you’ll be here for several hours. I’d like to pay you for a day or a night or both. But not hours.”

 

“You want to set a fix price.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“I don’t do that.”

 

His costumer leaned forwards, the tips of his fingers meeting. “Then what is it you do, mh?”

 

“I don’t do anything without protection”, Altair said.

 

“It said so on your profile”, he nodded and made a gesture for Altair to continue.

 

“Special requests cost you extra.”

 

“So that’d add to the one twenty you take per hour?”

 

Altair nodded, “Yes.”

 

“What’s a special request then?”

 

“Everything that’d leave marks. My costumers don’t really like to see the leftovers of the ones I had before them. I need to make up for the money I’m losing when I have to wait for a week or two”, Altair explained.

 

“Anything else?”

 

“Fisting-“

 

“Why?”

 

Altair watched how he leaned back into his seat, the shadows of a smile on his lips. If he was right, he’d say his costumer was… amused. “Because I say so”, Altair shrugged. “You’ve said you’ve read my profile, you should know what my do’s and don’ts are.”

 

“You can’t cover everything with that.” He shook his head and took another sip from his glass. “Anything else I couldn’t read on your profile?”

 

“I pretty much covered everything I could think off. I don’t do anything involved with-“

 

“How about your pain tolerance?”

 

Altair pressed his lips tightly together and looked at him. He got annoyed by his interrupting. “It won’t be of your concern”, he simply said and lift his chin a little, looking at him over the tip of his nose. He watched how his answer made him chuckle.

 

“Well, that’s a new one.”

 

“A new one?” Altair’s brows rose high. “What do you mean?”

 

“All the other ones wanted to impress me”, he said with a motion of his hand, the content inside his glass swirling.

 

“Other ones?” Altair gnawed on his bottom lip and his tongue moved over the scar there. He smirked, “You know, jealousy doesn’t work in the business.”

 

“I wasn’t trying to make you jealous”, he snorted. “I’m simply trying to figure out of who I should work with.”

 

Altair leaned forwards. “Wait, wait…” It slowly dawned on him – the whole time he’d tried to put his finger on it but couldn’t really find it but now it was all too clear why everything about this appointment felt very, very odd and out of place. “This is an interview?”

 

“Do you think I want to buy a pig in a poke?” He clicked his tongue.

“You still have to pay me for tonight”, Altair with a frown. He didn’t really like this. People booked him to have a night of fun and yes, there had been a few times those appointment had ended with a simple conversation – most of his clients were lonely and Altair the only one they could really talk to. But not ever had somebody booked him for an… interview.

 

“I’ll pay you, there’s nothing for you to worry about. I have another question though.”

 

Altair leaned back and his eyes rolled upwards. “Go ahead”, he muttered. This guy was strange.

 

“The reason why you’ve specialized in this. Personal interest? Or because it’s one of the fields where you can find most of the money…” Altair could see a satisfied little smile on his lips and it somehow angered him, as if he was looking down on Altair.

 

“Personal interest”, Altair said.

 

“And for how long have you been doing this?” He set down his glass of whiskey. Most of it was gone now but a few sips were still left inside.

 

Altair leaned back forwards and placed his elbows on his knees. “Professional? Since I’m nineteen, so that’d be five years now and-“

 

“And not professional?” He cut through his words again and Altair sighed, then reached forwards and grabbed the glass and emptied in one go, glaring at him client from above the rim.

 

“A few years longer”, Altair answered nonspecifically, watching him watching Altair but the look on his face was so indifferent Altair had a hard time reading him.

 

“Are you in a relationship? Do you have somebody who takes care of you?”

 

Altair froze and looked at him before his lips broke into a grin and he chuckled helplessly. “What? That’s none of your business-“

 

“It is when a relationship could interfere with our work.”

 

“You make it sound as if we’re business partners-“

“We are, wouldn’t you think? I book you for your service, you deliver and I give you money for it. Simple as that.”

 

Altair rolled his shoulders and gritted his teeth. “That’s true but-“

 

“So there really isn’t anything we have to argue about.” He sat up straight and Altair thought they couldn’t get any more adversatively. Altair didn’t think of him as poor but he had debts to pay and his grandfather to take care of. Life was expensive and he didn’t spend much money on himself but his client was wearing a suit complete with waistcoat and tie from Prada. Altair had never thought of himself as being poor nor had he ever felt undressed when going to an appointment but today he felt small and like the dirt underneath his client’s shoes.

 

“Except for the question if we’re going to do this or not.”

 

“Exactly”, he nodded and leaned back. “You’ve said you take one twenty the hour plus the costs for special requests.” He pursed his lips and watched Altair for a long time. “I offer three thousand the day – that means twenty four hours, no less.”

 

Altair let go of a low whistle and he couldn’t do anything to hide his surprise. Now, that w _as_ a lot of money. He usually had six to eight appointments per month, he made two thousand top in four weeks which was just enough to cover his costs. “There’s a hook isn’t there?” He looked up.

 

“Not really. I’ll set a contract for you to read and sign.”

 

Altair blinked, “A contract, really?”

 

He pushed his glasses back up his nose and looked Altair up and down. “I’m going to spend a lot of money on you, yes a contract.”

 

Altair thought for a moment but then shrugged, “A contract, alright. That won’t be a problem for me.” That didn’t mean he did not feel uneasy about it. He didn’t work for some fancy agency which only sold to exclusive costumers, he simply paid money to host his profile on a website and was his own boss, picking his own costumers and choosing his own appointments – there was nothing worse than working for a pimp that took more than half your money by the end of the month, thank you very much. He didn’t need that shit. Altair thought he wasn’t that picky either. Yes, sure, he had some hygienically standards he expected his costumers to follow and he would turn somebody down if they wouldn’t meet it and he absolutely hated those fake Doms who thought it was all about screaming and practically being a bully. From the looks of it, this guy was different. He meant real business, Altair realized that all the more now. He didn’t look like on those wanna be Doms. His hair was freshly cut and he was clean shaved. He wore no jewelry expect for a watch around his right wrist which gave Altair the impression he was left handed. He was older than Altair, that was for sure and the first signs of gray hair were showing above his temple but the skin around his eyes wasn’t that much wrinkled yet and looked rather smooth. Altair would take a guess and say he was in his late thirties to early forties, a man who knew where he wanted to be in life, a man who knew what he wanted in life.

 

Altair flashed him a smile, “You’re some lawyer or something that you want to be safe in any possible way?”

 

To his surprise, he nodded. “I am a shark, yes.”

 

“Seems like I’ve lost to my own bet. I would have thought you’re a plastic surgeon. But now that you’ve said it, I should have guessed so myself.”

 

“I’ve thought about becoming a surgeon, you’re not all too wrong. But I like being in control and medicine is a field you can’t really control”, he said and leaned forwards, taking the empty glass from Altair and poured himself some more whiskey.

 

“You’re not new to this, aren’t you?”

 

“I’m not”, he said and looked into his glass, taking an inhale of air before taking a small sip and Altair could see how it warmed his stomach from the inside.

 

“I don’t do newbies”, Altair said.

 

“Then we won’t have a problem. From all the others I’ve met I have to say, you impress me the most.”

 

It made Altair frown, then shrug. “I’m not trying to impress you here.”

 

He smiled, “Exactly.” He sighed and emptied the rest of his glass in one go. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

 

Altair nodded, tomorrow was Saturday after all.

 

“Then I want to book you for three hours tomorrow night. We see how it goes and afterwards, we decide if we want to work together or not.”

“Sounds fair”, Altair shrugged. “You still owe me one twenty for tonight.”

 

“Nh.” Altair watched him pulling out a check from inside his pocket, quickly filling in all the numbers and signing it before handing it over to Altair. “That’s it then”, he told Altair and got up, the signal for Altair getting up as well with his check in his hand. “Tomorrow at eight”, he said as he walked Altair back to the door, “I expect you to be on time. Can you do that for me?”

 

Altair nodded as he pulled on his jacket, “Try my best”, he muttered as he walked out into the hall, rearranging his collar. “Although I don’t consider five minutes as-“ The door was shut behind him and Altair rolled his eyes with annoyance. This wouldn’t be easy money, he just got the feeling he had to work hard for what he had to offer but damn, three grand? There still had to be a hook, there just _had to be_ and Altair looked at the check in his hand and read the name on it.

 

“Well Mr. al-Sayf”, he muttered, “It’s nice doing business with you.”

 

 


	2. Pick Up

He thought he looked like shit today when he saw his reflection in the mirror. The glass steamed over and he run his fingers across it, his gaze set on his face and Altair groaned. He hadn’t slept much last night. An hour after his meet up with Malik he’d gotten a message for an appointment and instead of getting off the train at his station he’d traveled further to meet with a regular he’d been knowing for years. It was nothing big although he’d told him he couldn’t do anything that would leave marks. That had been a bummer for his costumer but nothing that would let him send Altair back home. Still, it had kept him sore and the hot shower didn’t really help to make him feel better. But he had to leave soon, there were only two hours left and it would take him an hour to get there.

 

He turned off the light and closed the door to the bathroom and went over into the living room. It was a small and it had only gotten smaller since they’d switched rooms. A few weeks ago he’d slept on the couch in the living room and his grandfather had the bedroom. But since he’d gotten trouble breathing at nights and also problems of getting out and into the bed, Altair had saved up his money for a medical bed which was powered and controlled by a small remote his grandfather could use. In the living room was also more space for the oxygen tank.

  “I go now gramps”, Altair said as he crouched down, the small TV across the bed running, the flickering light of the screen tossing shadows across the walls. “I’ll be home late, don’t wait for me”, he said and took his grandfather’s hand. “Don’t forget to drink alright?” He glanced at the carafe next to the bed filled with water.

His grandfather wasn’t that sick – he’d simply gotten old and needed help with things and Altair would be damned if he didn’t take care of the man who took him in at the age of five and practically rose him. He thought it wasn’t enough he did to thank him, so all he could really do was making sure he got it the best as possible especially since he still felt incredible guilty for the years he’d caused his grandfather a lot of grief.

The old man nodded, half a smile standing on his lips as something funny happened on the TV. “When will you transfer to another company? They’re making you work late so many times on the weekend”, his grandfather asked and it wasn’t the first time he did either.

“Soon”, Altair said, the same answer he’d given him for the past few years. He run his fingers through the man’s thin hair and pressed a light kiss to his head. “Don’t leave the TV on”, he reminded him and got up, straightening his clothes. “See you tomorrow.” His grandfather only half listened, already consumed by the running pictures and talking people on the screen, chuckling about something but he waved at Altair, showing him he had, in fact, heard him.

He didn’t lock the door behind him, he didn’t want to make his grandfather feel like as if he’s in some sort of prison, so he simply closed it and went down the corridor of the small apartment complex they were living at. It had rained not too early ago and the streets were still wet with big puddles on the sidewalk. Altair made sure not to step into one, he’d put on his best pair of shoes and didn’t want to ruin them with dirty water.

He checked his mails on the rain, the ride would take long enough anyway. He logged into his business account and found two new messages. One from a regular, the other one from somebody he hadn’t worked with yet. He read through the one labeled as ‘Dick’ and he had to smirk. Really? He couldn’t think of a better pseudonym? Or maybe Richard really was his real name… The message opened and Altair only skipped through it before hitting delete. Not the kind of costumer he needed. He went ahead to the next one and opened his calendar afterwards to mark next Tuesday for an appointment, from eight to ten which was good, it meant he wouldn’t get home too late. He closed his messages and went ahead to log into his profile – he liked to at least check it once a month to bring it up to date, uploading new pictures, remove and add things to his blacklist, write a status or something. Right advertisement was everything, especially in his business.

Altair put his phone away with a long sigh. He looked out the train’s window, the world speeding by in bright colors. It was funny how he hadn’t given much thought about tonight. Malik was just a costumer like everybody else - expect for no, he wasn’t. Malik was different. He wasn’t the only  one who liked to talk a lot at a first meeting and set conditions first, Altair had experienced that a couple of times before especially with those who’ve never had a rent boy before. They were nervous with sweaty hands and trying to make small talk before Altair would cut right through it and get down on his knees before them and asking if there was anything he could do, sir. Usually did the trick but he doubted Malik was one of those guys. He was curious though about what Malik actually might be into, they haven’t really talked about kinks or scenes during their first meet up. Yes, Altair had his lists, the one about what he certainly doesn’t do and the one you can book him for but man that was a long, long list. So he figured everything could go tonight.

He watched the building behind the windows turning larger, rising higher into the sky, the urban canyons growing as they were getting closer to downtown. The train stopped more often now, people were exiting and entering the train. He had a good ten minutes left as he got off and walked out into the streets, nearing Malik’s apartment. As he stood in front of his door there were five minutes left still, Altair rose his hand and knocked. And waited. Knocked again, waited more. Nothing happened. Altair checked the time again. He wasn’t late, it showed one minute before eight on his phone. Altair knocked once more, waited. Just when he was about to turn away to walk back the elevator, Malik stood in the door. He wore a suit again and there was jazz playing in the distance.

“Come in”, he said and stepped aside so Altair could go past him, Malik waiting by the door this time and closed it behind him.

“You know I was just about to go-“

“Rule number one”, Malik cut through his words, again, “you’re not talking unless I ask you a question or give you specific orders to do so.”

Altair watched Malik with arched eyebrows. Oh? Alright. So he was one of the strict guys. Maybe a sadist even?

“I’ve told you eight, not five minutes early or late. Eight, sharp. I think we have to work on that, boy.”

Alright, Malik already was in his full dominant mood. That was okay, Altair thought and unzipped his jacket. A bit confusing since Malik was yet no regular and usually, with new clients, there was always a bit of talk but alright… Malik had booked him for three hours, seems like he didn’t want to waste any time with talking. Good. “Any questions?” Malik watched Altair with his hands crossed behind his back.

“What are the other rules?” Altair pondered and took his jacket off but kept standing where he was and not moving an inch.

There was a smile on Malik’s lips, all charming but to Altair, it reminded him more of a predator. “That’s a very good question. We’ll go through them one by one”, he explained and took a few steps from the door. “You can put your jacket over there”, he noted and pointed at a coatrack although Altair would have expect Malik to have a walk in wardrobe to put his coats away.

Malik already took the stairs down to the living room and sat down on his coach which was far too big for just a single person. Altair followed him shortly, sitting down opposite from him but stopped half way when Malik rose his finger. “Stand up please.” Altair did. “You were too late yesterday-“

“That was five minutes-“

“You weren’t on time today and you already forgot about rule number one. Which makes it three strikes already.” Malik made a swirling motion with his finger. “Turn around. You get a time out.”

“A what?!”

“Four strikes”, Malik hummed and gestured with his head to the right of the room. “Stand in the corner, face the wall please.”

Altair opened his mouth, his face dipped into painted confusion. He squeezed his eyes shut, his lips opening and closing before he opened them again. But there he was, Malik and being dead serious if Altair read the expression on his face correctly. He looked at him expecting as he leaned back into the couch, one arm over the back and legs crossed.

Altair nodded and he started moving with soft knees and his legs felt a bit heavy as he walked over to the corner, facing it. “Hands behind your head.” He looked over his shoulder at Malik, he wasn’t even facing him but pulled up a book from the table. Altair turned back, his arms rising and crossed his hands behind his head. This was… strange, he felt like a child again when he’d stolen cookies and gotten caught by his grandfather. This was humiliating – this had to go to his black list. He could deal with a lot of things but this, this was maybe too much. Altair knew, maybe tomorrow he’d look differently at it than he did now, but- It seemed innocent, really, to stand in a corner with your hands behind your back and at first, he’d found it ridiculous and thought Malik couldn’t be serious about it. But, Altair had to admit that, this had probably more of an effect than a spanking, which was the usual punishment he received for behaving bad. This though had a far stronger effect on him. He had Malik in his back, he couldn’t really see what was going on, he had no idea what Malik was up to, he… For the first time in a long time he’s been doing this, he felt insecure – and it hadn’t even taken five minute for Malik doing this.

So, the man certainly was a pro, Altair was sure. This wasn’t the first time he was doing this and Altair could probably learn something from him but- He liked taking things slow especially with a new Dom and then again, this probably _was_ Malik taking it slow and yet, Altair felt as if he’d been hit by a huge log.

Time was ticking by. It felt like an eternity and his arms got heavy as if weights were pulling him towards the floor. What kept him up right though were his thoughts. Hands down, this wasn’t like anything he’d ever experienced. Altair wouldn’t consider himself a pro per se but he was experienced and he knew one or two things more than maybe an amateur would. He had costumers who were more experienced than others and their preferences came in various way and sometimes, were as different as day and night. There were the ones who liked to go back to the roots and do the old school style with a bit of the ‘bad boy’ play which involved some handcuffs and spanking, usually. Other ones had more extreme wishes but Altair got paid well and as long as something wasn’t on his black list, he’d do it without a question. Some of his costumers liked a bit of a fight while other absolutely did not tolerate any bratty behavior – to which he counted Malik. Still, Altair didn’t think of himself as an amateur and Malik offered a lot of money to get through this. He could do it.

Altair shifted his weight from one foot to the other and pulled his shoulders up, rolled them and turned his neck left and right to get rid of the stiff muscles. Thoughts were spinning wild in his head and Altair jumped in between memories. He didn’t have the chance all too often to spend his time alone, thinking. When he was home, he took care of gramps. When he wasn’t home, he was thinking about how to fulfill his client’s wishes. And if he wasn’t busy with that, he was busy thinking about a way to pay the next bill. He could hear how Malik turned page after page and every now and then the sound of the glass being picked up and put back down onto the table. The music was still on and Altair thought he’d already listened to the track currently playing. So for how long has he been standing here? Thirty minutes? Forty five? An hour maybe? Altair sighed. He was getting paid for standing in a corner. Not too bad then even though it still made him feel like a five year old but the longer he stood there facing the wall, the more the bitter feeling of humiliation vanished and shrunk to a small ball at the back of his head.

“Turn around”, Malik’s voice cut through the soft tunes of the music playing and it took Altair a moment for the words to sink in before he could react on them. He turned around and slowly let his arms come down. “Put your hands back up.”

Altair groaned but did as he was told.

“You’re learning incredible slow for someone who claims he’s been doing this for a few years”, Malik lamented slowly and closed his book with an audible thud, letting it rest on his lap. He cocked his head to one side, his lips splitting with an amused little smile. “Seems like I have to do a lot of work with you.” But Altair could tell from the look in his eyes, Malik didn’t mind the slightest. He put the book onto the table and leaned further back into the couch before crooking his finger at Altair. “Arms down and come here.”

Altair stopped just short in front of Malik, looking down at him and waited. “Not the best taste you have in clothes”, Malik hummed as his eyes roamed over Altair’s body. “Do your clients like that punk style you’re wearing?”

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer and yet, it took all of Altair’s willpower to not send Malik one of his smirks and reply with an ‘It certainly gets your attention, doesn’t it?’ but when Malik made a waving motion with his hand, Altair swallowed and pressed his lips tightly together before answering, “It usually helps them feeling superior over me.” The answer earned him an arched eyebrow.

“You’re not a punk Altair, are you?”

He shook his head, “No.”

“Rule number two”, Malik said, “I’m expecting respect from you. No, sir.”

Altair nodded.

“Let’s try this again. You’re not a punk Altair, are you?”

“No sir.”

Malik smiled. “Good. You still need to learn some lessons though. If you agree working with me after tonight, I could teach them to you.”

At this point, Altair wasn’t so sure anymore if he should accept Malik’s offer. He could risk a glance at Malik’s wrist watch and saw that it was already after nine – he should be naked by now or at least have some dick in his mouth. “Could you tell me your preferences?”

“I have my preferences on my profile-“

“Your _real_ preferences”, Malik clarified.

“They’re on my profile”, Altair said without blinking.

“You don’t want to tell me”, Malik said with a smirk. “I have to find out myself then.”

Altair held his chin up high. Malik was right though, he didn’t want to tell him and not all the things on his profile were his true preferences – but he’d be damned if he made it so easy for Malik to figure him out. After all, every man liked to keep some things in his life a secret. Altair was no different. “Standing there must getting uncomfortable”, Malik hummed and eyed Altair from head to toe. “Why don’t you kneel for me, sit back on your heels and part your legs a little with your hands behind your back, mh?”

Now that was specific and Altair followed, of course. He had no intention of playing the brat here just to give Malik a hard time – he personally thought these kind of games were wasted time. He was a rent boy, a hooker, somebody who sold his submission to men who liked to take the control – and he wouldn’t deliver anything else but that. Unless it was wished for. He watched Malik getting up and walking over to a small cabinet he opened to pull a laptop out. When he returned, he placed it onto the coffee table in front of him so Altair could see the screen and pressed the power button. It’s been in stand by modus and the screen flashed up to an already opened website.

A porn website.

With a movie already playing but was currently on pause. Altair looked at Malik with a puzzled look. “It’s not perfect yet”, Malik told him and went back to the same cabinet and got a pack of cigarette, then changed to another one to get out a bottle of whiskey and a glass. Alright. That man really liked his whiskey. Malik sat back in front of him, poured himself some and then rose his glass as if to say a toast. “Cheers”, he simply muttered and took a small sip.

Malik confused him as he pressed play and pulled out a cigarette to light it.

He didn’t really mind porn and yes, sometimes his costumer’s wished to watch it together with him – or at times, watched it themselves and forbid him from looking, testing his willpower. So, it wasn’t really that peculiar for Malik to open porn but it still left a taste of confusion behind. Altair thought Malik was difficult to figure out. He could tell he liked being in control but every of his clients had that in common. It reminded him of one of his first costumers back when he’d been new to the business. He’d never touched Altair, just invited him over, made him kneel and watch him jerk off, then paid him and sent him back home. Easy made money and honestly one to the things that got him hooked to the business.

“Why are you watching me?” Malik muttered lazily and smoke escaped in slow waves his nose as he breathed out.

“I think I’m more interested in figuring you out than some porn I’ve already watched anyway, sir”, Altair answered and there it was, that little spark of excitement that was born in his lower stomach when he saw how surprise took over Malik, followed by a lopsided smirk.

“Really now?” Malik leaned closer, his eyes on level with Altair’s as his hand moved slowly, one single finger pushing his chin upwards. “I tell you something, Altair” Malik purred his name and sat back up, turning the volume of the movie playing down to a minimum but the pictures were still running. When Altair glanced at them, he could just watch in time a man being tied up in suspension. “Just like you, I like to… figure my boys out. A profile can tell you only so much about somebody’s preferences.” He made a waving gesture with his hand as he flipped off the ash of his cigarette with the other one. “I like being satisfied by my partner but for me to be satisfied I, as well, want to see the ones I play with taken care of.”

Malik sighed and leaned back as one leg rose to he could press his foot against Altair’s crotch. “Since you refuse to tell me your likings I have to find out myself, no?”

Altair flashed him a tiny smile, “Seems like it, sir.” 


End file.
